


Tick Tock

by oceanofwaves



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofwaves/pseuds/oceanofwaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick Tock

Thick clouds today. Wasn’t hot, either. Nice day for flying.

I make more mild observations, though I don’t really care. My main concern was getting to the top of this building. I climb the staircase, on the tips of my feet. The steps crumble a bit, but that’s to be expected of an abandoned building. I cough, and slow down. All my running was sending dust up everywhere, and it was getting pretty annoying. I slow my pace, even though I know I’ll gradually start running again.

I’m at the highest floor, now. I busted a hole my size through the ceiling a few years ago, and it’s holding up fine. I grab an old chair from nearby, and stand up. Gripping the edges of the hole, a heave myself through. Grabbing at the rooftop, I pull myself up. For a second, I just sit. The sun kisses my cheeks in warm beams. Then, I’m standing. I take my jacket off, and tie it around my waist. Through the slits I cut into my shirt, I pull out my wings.

They’re soft, but they’re getting rougher over the years. A few dents. Missing feathers. But by god, do I love them. They seem to shimmer in the sunlight, golden and bright. They’re massive, covering the rooftop from end to end. With one flap, I’ve already risen several meters. A few more, and I’m above the clouds. My hair’s a bit wet from passing through them, but I was used to it at this point.

I’ve had wings for as long as I remember. I was built a bit different from the average person. Different muscles, different bones. But that didn’t matter to me, because damn, I could _fly._

I was going for a bit of a practice flight today. Wind whipped through my hair, but I had it pinned neatly out of my face. It was a bit of a habit, at this point. I feel something funny tickling my leg… I look down, and my jacket’s nearly slipped off. I cease for a second, positioning myself upright. After securing it carefully, I was ready to keep going.

Below me, I couldn’t really make out people. There were just different colors, moving around. Some were different shapes, which I could identify as animals. Lakes in shimmering, gleaming waves. Grass, soft and plush. The trees, sturdy and lovely.

But none of it held a candle to my absolutely favorite place to fly over. The ground beneath me was instantly painted over in bright colors: reds, blues, purples, pinks, orange, yellows… Any color I could dream of, it was there. I slow down, and angle myself to land. I flap as I hover above them for a little bit, and then a bring myself down into the field of flowers.

I had landed on a hill. Sitting down underneath a towering cherry blossom tree, a sigh escapes me. The ground merges with the soft pink and orange from the skies, and soft tufts of white.

I flutter my wings, just for a second. Oh, a bird landed on my shoulder. If I’m correct, it’s a dove. I pick out a blue flower—a forget-me-not—and nestle it within the dove’s wings. It chirps, pleased.

Yeah, this was nice.

**Author's Note:**

> A short one-shot I've written for a very close friend of mine. I hope she smiled while reading this.


End file.
